


Amnesia

by townshend



Category: Marble Hornets
Genre: Community: slashthedrabble, Ficlet, M/M
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2011-03-13
Updated: 2011-03-13
Packaged: 2017-10-16 22:11:41
Rating: General Audiences
Warnings: No Archive Warnings Apply
Chapters: 1
Words: 403
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/169887
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/townshend/pseuds/townshend
Summary: <blockquote class="userstuff">
              <p>J can't ever remember what's happened to him, but maybe he doesn't want to.</p>
            </blockquote>





	Amnesia

J couldn't remember how he'd gotten into this situation - all he knew was that he was lying down, in the carpet and ripped-up newspaper coupons, and his camera was nearby - two feet just out of reach on its side, the red light showing it was on and filming. He racked his memory, trying to retrace his steps, but nothing was coming. Just a faint memory of coming back to this house, looking for Brian, looking for Alex, looking for clues.

There was a rustling sound, and J jerked, moving to sit up - but as soon as he did, a form suddenly sat on his stomach, pushing his shoulder down, pushing J back into the carpet.

It was totheark. The mask was unmistakable, and J felt a sharp pierce of fear in his stomach, but he couldn't bring himself to scream. Totheark leaned down towards him, peering into his face, unspeaking. J stared back, swallowing, hard. His throat and mouth were dry. How long had he been stumbling around without any recollection of it? How long had he been with totheark?

And had... had the Operator been here?

"I need to go home," J whispered, hoarsely, but totheark shook his head, only leaning closer. J felt the cold plastic of the mask press against his cheek; could hear totheark's shaky breathing against the plastic, his fingers boring holes into J's shoulders.

And for a minute, J thought maybe, finally, he understood at least one thing. This guy, whoever he was, didn't want to be alone. Was he scared? J could never tell if he was working for or against the Operator, but the way he was holding onto him now, his breathing forced and erratic, only spoke to the same fear J had come to know too well these past few months.

Slowly, totheark rose, grabbing J's camera and pressing it into his hands. J sat up, watching as totheark sat across from him, cross-legged, watching J, unspeaking. J did the only thing he knew how to do and rose the camera, filming. For a moment, he wished film could capture the warmth of another body pressed to his and the sounds and feeling of the other man's breathing against the mask, just barely brushing J's cheek - but the moment was gone, and if J was honest with himself, he knew that later he'd probably forget any of it had ever happened at all.


End file.
